


Death keeps no calendar

by Aislingbreagha



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Past Character Death, Pre-Relationship, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24895429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aislingbreagha/pseuds/Aislingbreagha
Summary: Death doesn't knock at the door; don't put your life on hold.
Relationships: Greg House & James Wilson, Greg House/James Wilson, past Amber Volakis/James Wilson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	Death keeps no calendar

"You didn't have to come." 

"I know."

Wilson turns his head down, covering a slight, tight lipped smile. January's frosty breeze beginning to burn the tips of his ears. If she was here, she would of reminded him to bring a hat, or laughed at him for forgetting one, she'd definitely - Wilson sucks in a sharp breath - if she was here, he wouldn't need to be here in the first place. It's one of those...things - _shit, what's it called?_ A time thing. "Anomaly?" he mutterers under his breath.

House raises an eyebrow. "What?"

Startled, Wilson is regrettably reminded where he is. And why.

"It’s nothing, just thinking about.... _shit_ \- " Wilson covers his eyes with his fingers, thumb forcefully pressing into his temple "- this should be getting easier, why isn't it getting easier?" He inhales through his teeth, just barely choking on the sob that has been threating to escape since he left his car.

Frowning, House raises his hand as if to squeeze Wilson’s shoulder in sympathy, or maybe to shake some sense into him.

"Jesus, Wilson. It's barely been a year. Some people take longer to get over a fucking sprained ankle, let alone-"

"Ten months," Wilson interrupts. He turns his head around his shoulder, eyes damp, and staring at House. "We'd been dating for six months before the bus crash, Amber's been dead for longer than we were together!" He yells, and it echoes across the empty cemetery.

They both fall quiet, mutually turning their attention to the pristine gravestone in front of them.

"Paradox." House naturally shatters the silence.

"Huh?"

"That word you were looking for: paradox."

Amazing, how after all these years, House still manages to surprise him. It's a pity he's not in the mood.

"What - how? House, can't you just be quiet for two seconds, I'm trying to-"

"Rationalize Amber's death. Yeah, no, I got that. What I don't get is why. No wait, I do get why. You're Mr Rationalisation, if reason were a woman, you'd have divorced her already.” House pauses, limping in front of Wilson, and obscuring Amber's gravestone. "See what you always seem to forget, is that I know you better than any of your wives have known you, granted not in the biblical sense - but we'll get there - but I do know how you -" he emphasizes, jabbing a finger at the centre of Wilson’s chest "- think, you're stubborn, it's why you're an oncologist, holding on until the bitter end. Doesn't matter if it's cancer, or a toxic friendship, or your dying girl-”

"Shut up, House!" Wilson erupts, voice catching. Feeling rubbed raw and exposed.

"No!" House yells. "No more tiptoeing around this, it's the same argument we had eight months ago. You're stuck, Wilson!" He exhales, softening. "Look, maybe in an alternative universe, Amber didn't take the flu tablets, maybe she didn't get on the bus. But she did. And that doesn't make what happened okay, it just happened. It's not karma, it's not fate, there's no reason behind it. It's life. It ends." He finishes, holding eye contact with Wilson.

Wilson let's out a shaky laugh. "Life? Our life together ended before it even started."

"Now you're just being cynical. And believe me, it's not as attractive on you as it is one me." House jokes, attempting - but mostly failing- to lighten the mood. " Look, the time you have without her, doesn't counteract the time you had together. Six months; six years. You’re still going to want more time. Don't waste your life wallowing in what ifs."

Wilson snorts, House is one to talk. "Wallowing, huh? And what are you doing with your life? Smelling the roses?"

"I would, but they were all out of roses at the graveyard giftshop," House quips. "Alright, time to pull out the big guns. Amber would want you to move on."

 _Wow_ , Wilson thought House was above such clichés. "Like you would know what she'd want, you didn't even like Amber."

"Hey! I liked cutthroat bitch just fine. She had the triple a’s: assertive, aggressive and ambitious. Almost as good as Cuddy's double ds." He paused, with an exaggerated leer. "Almost. Do you know what else she was? Realistic." House says, looking pointedly at Wilson. "And she loved you." The _she wouldn't want you wasting your life because of her_ , goes without saying.

"...okay," Wilson sigh, after a moment of silence. House is right, after all. He may be a bastard about it, but he's usually right. _Fuck_. If House is giving him emotional advice, he must really need it. "And... thanks."

For a second, House looks as though he's going to shrug off the gratitude. Or snark something back, in his usual House manner. But then the ever-present crow feet around his sharp eyes, soften. The left side of his thin lips, turning upwards, in a rare, yet genuine smile.

Wilson feels a slight shiver pass through his body. _It must be colder than I thought_ , Wilson ponders to himself. Just now, noticing the sun disappearing behind an overcast sky. Funny, how he feels warmer than he had a moment ago. Though, he realises, that could be the leather jacket now covering his arched shoulders.

"You didn't have to-"

"Shhhh, Wilson. You're ruining the moment."

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first House fanfiction, but i'm planning to write lots more!  
> I only started writing a few months ago, so any feedback is more than welcome :)


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